Full Circle
by Kilonji
Summary: The continuation of Breaking The Girl. They both face the truth.
1. Morning Call

**A/N:** Eh, I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment.

* * *

Until tonight, she supposes, she was simply too tired to dream. Things are busy here now, even a year later. The Soul Society that had ground to a jarring stop the day of her execution is slowly beginning to move again, to lick its wounds, limp about on uncertain paws. It is beginning to thrive again, and she is in the mix of it with everyone else. And she is up for the work, no doubt.

In fact, she does little else, and as soon as her head hits the pillow her world goes dark and does not stir until the sun rises again and she is due at her post.

Until last night.

In her bare feet she moves slowly in the tall grass. She was keenly aware of her hair stirring in the breeze. She brushes a dark lock out of her eyes, peering in the twilight. She knows he's waiting for her in that space, feels his hunger as it sharpens her own. How long has it been since she felt like this? Her steady gait becomes a trot and then a run. The sun is fading; her blood is pounding with a strangely familiar urgency. If not now, never. She must see him. She must feel his skin under her palms, confirm the reality of him once and for all. Nothing else can draw her into these woods.

When she sees his tall, slight form she begins to run. She does not blink; doing that will give him an opportunity to disappear and she would have come all this way for nothing. The closer she comes to him, the heavier she grows, her legs becoming lead and her lungs burning. But he knows her all too well, and when he reaches his hand out to her she stretches to take it. And his fingers are his lips and as she closes her eyes she is breathing his breath, heady and thick. His spare hand weaves itself into her hair as his lips move lower, she is pushed back against something hard and feels him, just as hard, against her. She can even feel the steady thud of his heart against her shoulder, then lower as he lifts her. And his lips are on hers again and her hands are on his shoulders, gripping, digging her nails to the point of drawing blood. And then he gasps and chuckles, pulls himself away for just a moment to gaze at her. "So impatient," Gin says. His scarlet eyes are wide open to her. "Has it been that long?"

She blinks slowly, licks her lips. "It's been long enough." She pulls him back down to herself and lets go.

For just a moment, of course. The hazy alarm spreading through her hurls her up and out. She sits up in her bed, in her comfortable chamber in the thirteenth division compound, and it is still dark. There is knocking. "Kuchiki-fukutaichou," the voice comes through the screen. "There is an emergency."

The remnants of her dream evaporate around her. "I'm coming," she says, throwing back her blanket.

She dresses calmly and when she slides open her door the messenger is already on his knees, chin touching the floor. "I'm sorry to wake you, Kuchiki-dono, but there has been a hell butterfly. All officers are to assemble at the first squad headquarters as soon as possible."

"Has Ukitake-taichou been notified?"

"He sent the hell butterfly, sir."

She nods. "I understand. You may return to your post. Thank you." As she leaves the compound, the moon is still high but the horizon is already becoming violet with the coming dawn. It is rosy when she reaches the compound. Already most of the others are assembled, some grumbling, others excited. When she reaches Renji's side she notices the stubble and the dark circles first. "Have you even been to bed?"

He barely looks at her. "If you have a problem with my hours, Rukia-sama, take it up with your brother."

"What's this about?"

"Who knows? Knowing Kyoraku-taichou, they're going to announce he finally bagged Nanao."

Rukia chokes back a laugh as she sees Hitsugaya staring at them. He does not look pleased, as usual. She nods respectfully and stares forward.

After a short while, the two elder captains, fair and dark haired, emerge. The seriousness of their faces quiets the few people left making noise. Ukitake takes a deep breath, and his eyes search the faces until they find those of his new vice-captain. He blinks very slowly, seeming much older than he did when she last saw him. And it's clear that it is not his illness that is weighing down on him. "We will have a trial here in forty-eight hours. Ichimaru Gin has been apprehended."

the room becomes still in shocked silence, then explodes. This can't be possible. He should be dead. Can it truly be him? Kyoraku silences them all with a look. "The second squad will be escorting him back here within the hour and will hold him until the repentance cell is prepared for him. We will assemble a jury at noon today with the help of Central 46. All of you are expected to attend the selection ceremony. Dismissed."

It's strange to hear such authority coming from him, but no one dares question it. Everyone turns and filters toward the door.

Including Rukia, who feels the flush coming to her cheeks. Ukitake will want to talk to her later. As will her brother. And Renji is looking at her, eyes bright and intense. He can't say a word, of course. Not right now, with her brother somewhere undoubtedly close by.

She can only look back at him and pray he can't see that the bottom has dropped out of her stomach.


	2. Her Protectors

Outside of the First Division compound, Renji lingers behind as the rest move towards their barracks that are scattered across Sereitei. Rukia moves past him at what she thinks is a quick enough pace, but he catches her wrist. "Kuchiki-taichou will be out in a little while. Why don't you stay and wait with me?" It is not actually a question. She gazes up into his bloodshot eyes and sighs a little. She cannot say no, not just to his face but to him at all. She never really could, except when it really mattered. When he settles onto a bench she stands awkwardly close, tense and silent. She has not seen the criminal yet, but he's been on her mind since before she was reminded he still existed in this world or any other. The timing of her mind never fails to stun her. After all this time. She has not spared him a thought since the news came to the sprawling shinigami army in Las Noches and outside of it that Aizen Sousuke was dead, the fight was over. And then last night she dreamed of him. Not Aizen, that monument to cold ambition, but his treasured lieutenant, her erstwhile captor. He of the smiling face and unsettling voice.

"Rukia." She starts a little, gazes down at the redhead where he sits, head tilted back and eyes closed, on the bench. "Say something."

"Like what?"

"Anything. You make me nervous."

"I don't see why."

"It's been a year and you've never told me anything. You're going to see him again in half a day. If you're gonna to go to pieces, I wouldn't mind fair warning."

"I'm not going to go to pieces." Her eyes narrow. "When have I ever?"

He stares up at her with narrow brown eyes. "You never have. I'd say you're overdue for it."

She rolls her eyes and begins to pace. "Oh spare me. First of all, I'm not weak. Second, stop playing dutiful assistant to my brother. I'm not his responsibility and I'm not yours, either."

"What makes you think I'm even thinkin' about your brother? Can't you spend fifteen minutes with me without picking a fight?"

"I'm not picking a fight." She crosses her arms. "I'm just telling you how it is. Stop worrying, I'm fine. You act like I can't have any secrets."

"I would prefer, and I'm sure Abarai-fukutaichou would agree with me, that you didn't keep _harmful_ secrets."

Renji is on his feet in an instant, stiff as if he's been struck by lightening. The man seems to have come from nowhere, silent as the fog and just disorienting in his heavy authority. "Kuchiki-taichou, thank you for your hard work."

Byakuya nods absently in his direction, then turns back to his sister. "I spoke with Ukitake-taichou, and he can spare you for a while. Walk with me."

Rukia glances at Renji, who shakes his head. She understands she is trapped. "Yes, Nii-sama." She falls in step with Byakuya, who has already turned towards the Manor. She quickens her pace until she is close by his side but politely half a step behind.

He does not look at her. "I will not ask for your name to be kept from the lottery," he says. "But I must caution you. If you are chosen, you will not be able to evade service."

"I have no wish to, Nii-sama."

The faint huff makes his exasperation clear. "Even if you have a clear reason to be biased?"

"I understand your concern, Nii-sama, and I'm grateful, but Ichimaru Gin is not being tried for any crime against me. I have no reason to be biased."

Byakuya is silent for a moment, as if savoring her words. "So you insist he has never harmed you," he says.

Rukia grimaces. If there was ever a place not to be caught in a lie, it's here. "I don't. He made a nuisance of himself to me while I was still unseated and mocked me on the day of my execution. There has been harm to me, but nothing worthy of a grudge."

Byakuya nods a little. "I see," he says. He does not speak again. Renji, trailing behind them, likewise remains silent.

It is the truth, she tells herself. The taunting, the baiting, the backhanded insults, these things are all insignificant. The other things can be excused as acts understandable, no, _expected_, in a time of conflict. As an enemy captive, she had no rights and anything done to her was within the bounds of warfare. She was nothing special to defend or protect. She was a soldier. Plain and simple, she thinks. All the more reason not to draw attention to herself or what happened during her brief captivity. She wishes they could see that. But they refuse to let it go.

Her brother did his cold and aristocratic version of clucking and fussing over her, when the war was over and they arrived home victorious. He ordered her to remain at the Manor, set the entire household at her disposal, and visited her during his workdays, sometimes without any notice at all. He would just show up wherever she was—and how it was he kept such careful track of her, she'll never know—and send her new subordinates flying as he talked about mundane things with her one moment and asked stern, particular questions the next. He came as close as she'd ever seen him to throwing a fit when she announced that as the new thirteenth squad vice captain she would move into their barracks. He did not wish her to go. It clearly made it harder for him to stalk her in his brotherly way. But she would not be swayed, and her own Captain supported her. Since Ukitake outweighed her brother in rank, Byakuya was forced to end his protests. And then Ukitake—bless him—had discreetly informed Byakuya that his interference was unwelcome. Rukia knew this because he told her so; Ukitake-taichou refused to do anything behind her back. "Have a care," he chucked at her, "your brother is most unhappy with me right now. Don't let him take it out on you." And Rukia smiled her gratitude at him and moved forward, burying herself in her work like she had wanted to from the beginning. She would make a vice-captain who would awe even Kaien, if he were here to see it.

The only thing that surprised Rukia was how willing and able Renji proved himself to be to assist her brother in keeping an eye on her. She would have thought of that as a betrayal if it wasn't clear that Renji was exhausted for it. Apparently, she was worth a few night's worth of lost sleep. She smiles to herself suddenly. Here is an opportunity to show him she knows and is grateful for his concern. "Nii-sama, is Abarai-fukutaichou needed?"

"He has paperwork," comes the terse reply.

"I'd like to volunteer to help him. He's in no state for it. You'll get nothing but sloppy calligraphy out of him unless he gets some rest."

Byakuya stops just before the Manor gate and fixes her with a hard stare. Clearly he wanted to invite her in, but he knows she's right. He is clearly annoyed by how easy it has become for his sister to evade him. "I am sure Abarai will appreciate your assistance. Thank you for your work." He bows a little, and disappears into the gate.

After he is out of sight, Rukia links arms with Renji. "There," she says. "I'll make you some tea and you can sleep."

"You didn't have to do that," the redhead sighs.

"I wanted to. He's running you ragged and you both know it. What is with these little trips to the living world lately?"

"You knew about that?"

"You told Ikkaku. You know he tells Yumichika everything, and Yumichika tells Isane, and so on. . ." She laughs. "Not much of a secret."

Renji shakes his head. "Oh well. It's been busy," he yawns. He does not, however, offer any explanation.

Rukia does not mind that. As she goes over a supply order later, listening to his snore, she is smiling again. It doesn't matter, any of it. Renji is alive and thriving. So is her former partner in crime in the living world. She has nothing to complain about. Even when her mind is snatched up by the dream she had earlier.

It was intense, as dreams go. She was warm all over when she woke, and she cannot explain it. The sensation of Gin's lips still burns on her shoulder where it never was. The feel of him, the smell of him—all the things that had repulsed her before—come flooding back to her with alarming clarity. A shiver runs down her spine as she recalls the slight brush of his thumb over her nipple, his hand cupping her—

She slams down her brush. A spot of ink lands safely away from the parchment on Renji's desk. She realizes how heavily she is breathing and struggles to calm herself. _I have to stop this,_ she thinks, shaking her head. _I'll go crazy._


	3. Business, Finished and Unfinished

She's making him nervous again and she knows it. But she can't help it.

The way she woke him was nothing unusual in and of itself, she'd done it countless times when they were children living on the fringe of society, dependent on only themselves and each other. Her hand on his chest, her voice. "Renji. You have to get up." Despite the horrendous snore, he's a light sleeper, and he coasted to the surface like a balloon into the air. His eyes are beautiful when he's disoriented, she thinks.

"Rukia," his murmurs, stretching. "Have you been here all this time?" The idiot is blushing. She frowns and smacks his thigh, hard. Can't let him get any tender ideas, not now. It's been a long time since she's even been interested in things like _that_. She rises and stretches herself. "We have twenty minutes. Fix your hair and let's go."

The Lottery Ceremony is predictable, but only because she has already discussed it with her captain. Long before there was ever a need for a trial, she had aided him as much as she could in his duties: Ukitake had taken it upon himself to re-organize Central 46. Kyouraku-taichou is excellent where theories and research are needed, but practical application is not his strong suit. His own beleaguered vice-captain had the affairs of their own division to manage, so it fell to Rukia to assist where she could, outside of her own duties to her squad. As usual, she welcomed the work. And Ukitake-taichou seemed glad of her company. "You studied this at the academy, I know," he told her. "Your records list you took a courses about traditional law."

"It seemed interesting," she said to him. "And they didn't talk to average students like me as if we were idiots."

Ukitake nodded and smiled. As if Ukitake could ever understand the pain of being average. "Tell me what you think."

"Well," she said, kneeling beside him, "it works in theory. Democracy is an old form of government, and there are examples of a checks and balances system working well in the living world. But can we apply that here? The separation of Seireitei and the lower districts of Rukongai could be an impediment here."

"Shunsui mentioned we should assemble a separate congress as soon as possible, yes. What else?"

"Forgive me for asking. But do we have the resources for such an undertaking?"

"It'll be a slow going. But we have a lot of time to change, evolve. Even after Shunsui and I are gone, there will be others to continue the work. We consider Soul Society to have a spirit and a capacity for growth and change like any living thing. Don't you see yourself in it, sometimes, Rukia-dono?"

She blinked at him, then, and the understanding washed over her. "Have I changed too, Taichou?"

He smiled at her. "I decided to give you an allowance of five stupid questions when you accepted your new position. You just used one up."

At the front of the crowded room she finds him, solemn as the situation requires. She doesn't need to wonder what the white haired man is thinking now. He always has all of his bases covered. And he remains impassive as thirteen people, ranging from an unseated first year from the eleventh division to Yamada Hanatarou of the fourth, pull marked papers from the selection bins. Yamada, however, asks to excuse himself considering his role in the situation. _And his connection to me_, Rukia thinks. He's changed too, has Hanatarou. He is visibly angry at his luck. Kyouraku immediately placates him, but he stands firm. "I have reason to be biased," he says as he walks slowly back to his squad.

Rukia sighs. They all do. After all, the crime Ichimaru committed was against all of them. Hanatarou will just have to suffer, but. . . . she is slightly ashamed about being grateful to not be in his shoes. When she glances at Renji, she can tell he feels the same way. She's sure her brother does, but her captain. . . Ukitake has not looked at her. His soft eyes are locked on the _other_ white-haired captain.

He's grown some, inward and outward. He's become a local heartthrob now, not that he cares. Those huge aqua eyes stare forward, but the rage in them is clear to everyone. He has more of a grievance than anyone, really. But again, Rukia thinks, their crimes—Gin's, Tousen's, Aizen's—are crimes against Soul Society. Individual people have no say here. None at all. So she is relieved when Kyouraku-taichou announces that no one besides the jury, the assorted new members of Central 46 and themselves will be allowed to attend the trial. They can look at Ichimaru Gin all they want. She has been spared. It's over and everyone can get back to their lives.

Or so she thought. Afterwards, Renji will not leave her. "Are you sure?" he asks. "Are you okay with it being this way?"

She groans. "We've been over this."

"Kuchiki-taichou is worried and so am I. And people have been talking."

"I know that already."

"Okay then, fine. Lie to me all you want, but you can't keep this up with yourself."

"Keep what up?" She knows what's coming. They've bitten their tongues and shot her pitying, sympathetic glances all this time, much like the ones she sends to poor Hitsugaya. She is not unlike the boy in resenting it a little. None of them know the truth of it. The emptiness of loss, the horror of finding out how helpless you are. But they've all been speculating, trying to gage the feelings of "victims" like Hitugaya-taichou and herself, if only to make treason against a state into a personal act. They've even started tip-toeing around Kira, another casualty of Gin's vicious heart. But no one has been so bold as to say it aloud, not to her. Not Rukia's brother, not Rukia's captain. But Renji is different. He knows her like he knows his own body. So most of all she does not want to hear this from Renji. Never him. _Anyone_ but him.

But he pushes. "I know what he did to you."

"No you don't." She looks at him, and the anger she feels is strange and comforting. He's prying, really. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

He falls silent, but walks with her until she reaches the thirteenth division barracks. He manages a bit of a bow, clearly uncomfortable and afraid she's angry with him. She is, but she knows it'll pass. "Go tell my brother I'm fine," she says before she leaves him.

It amazes her how well she lies to him now. But it's over, really. Gin will obviously be executed and everyone will eventually forget. Just like she's trying to do. Shirayuki told her she'd never be intact again, but she'd be better. She still believes that. But. . .she remembers all too well. His hands, his lips. The sheer force he exerted on her, whether he was raping her or not. "_I had you_."

She assumes that she left a piece of herself behind with him. That must be it. That must be why, given his sudden close proximity, she is thinking of being touched. As she sips her tea and gets an early start on her own paperwork, she is resolved not to slip into that again. What he took from her, she does not want back, not if she has to face him to get it. Absolutely not. He can carry it to the grave with him. Bastard.

It's dark by the time she hears the slight commotion towards the entrance. She's lost track of time. Damn. When she comes out to meet her captain, his face is grim. "Kuchiki-fukutaichou, come with me."

In his study, Ukitake frowns to himself, as if mulling over what to say next.

"What is it?" she asks him.

"You should sit," he says. "You know your brother has done his best to shield you, even now. But so have I. I know you do not wish it. But you have something you may need to attend to."

She smiles at him, settling onto her knees in front of him. "Has someone been talking about marrying me off again?" She knows better but says it anyway. Anything to try to dispel the air of foreboding he's giving off.

He looks at her sharply. "This is serious. Please do not make light of it. I have not told your brother yet. This is your choice. Ichimaru Gin has spoken, and he wants to see you."

For a split second, her heart stops. Her lips part, and the words come before she can even think. "Fine."


	4. Insanity

The repentance cell is ready.

The guards came in the dead of night. Gin could not have predicted it better. They did not want to move him in broad daylight; that would be tempting fate. He finds it amusing that he even thinks of things as fate now, because if that's true—that there is a plan, that from the first day his face felt sunlight it was already supposed to end this way—it's not a very nice thing. It would mean that woman walked away from him not because he let her, but because she was _meant_ to. The same theory would apply itself to that violet-eyed cunt as well. So he was meant to fall from favor. And oh yeah, Aizen was doomed before Urahara put that sparkly in his head. That's just so amusing, the events of all these years boiled down and stripped to their bare bones.

Fucking hilarious. The guards are already on edge even though he has been separated from his zanpaktou. Perhaps that's because he's laughing, or is it the other way around? He is hooded, he is bound, but he is walking straight and tall, chuckling to himself at the irony. Does his laughter make them nervous?

He laughs even harder. Good.

He's had precious little to laugh about lately, and this is a welcome respite. He lingered in Hueco Mundo only long enough to see Las Noches in flames. The vanguard of Soul Society's army was gathered to watch it burn. Aizen was already dead—another thing that was predestined—by the hand of Urahara Kisuke—something that was still a shock, whether fated or not. Gin could only look forward, from here. He felt the second division on his heels from the moment he crossed into the living world. He could only evade them for so long, especially now that Soi Fon had begrudgingly accepted the help of the greatest tracker the second division has ever known.

Yoruichi was dogged, determined, and sneaky. Gin began seeing black cats everywhere he went, and although they never approached him, he had to suppress the desire to kill them all. But when Yoruichi came to him, she was in her own form. He was holed up in a vacant, dusty house, bored. It had been months, and he was starving. She offered him lunch. "You look thin. You should at least want to look your best when they see you again." Her amber eyes found Shinsô. "I'll be gone before you can even call its name," she said coolly. "Eat up and we'll go."

Going without a fight was ignominious, but necessary. He was bored here, in the months he spent hiding himself in the living world, but he had not been idle. Not my a long shot. Soul Society's idea of justice was bound to catch up with him, sooner or later. He planned on an ending no one would ever forget.

That's why he's laughing now. Not because he can see his plan taking shape, all the pieces coming into place, but because he now knows they were a farce, his intentions, the foul play he wrote over and over in his head. He eavesdropped as often as he could, in that second division holding cell. And the things he heard did not please him. At first, certain repeated words snatched his interest. Words like "trial," "guilty," and "punishment." After a while other words added themselves to his attention list. "Jury," "execution,"and "fair." And then he understood his trial would not be public. He would face no one but a jury and those chosen as counsel and judges. This worried him a bit. He wouldn't even see her, not once, before he died. That definitely was not part of his plan.

By the time the guards came to move him to his final cell, he was a little bit demoralized and a lot angry. He hated being thwarted like this. He hated the smug faces underneath the masks the guards wore. If he had Shinsô with him, he would have sliced his way through them and ran. He hated, hates the fact that he still does not want to die. Is afraid to, even. Especially if it will be so pointless. Especially since he felt—feels that his life should have ended when Ran-chan's did. He hates that even now he cannot let her go. His face screws up under the hood, even though he's still laughing. It means he'll never be able to end it with her. He'll never be able to give her the things he wanted her to have. There is only one other person he's willing to give them to, and these are things that are meant to be given away. And yet by some political or judicial fluke, he'll never be able to. Fate is a complete bitch.

So is that girl. The cause of his downfall. The cause of everything.

When it dawns on him that he would not be in this situation if he had not cultivated her, saved her, treasured her hatred, it makes him laugh even harder. But he does not want her dead, not just yet. He hasn't really changed at all, even after all this. It's fucking hilarious.

Even more hilarious than that is the welcoming committee. When the hood is lifted and his bonds removed, he looks them in their cool faces and smiles. Those two. He still likes them, actually. Soul Society's sardonic Dark Knight and gentle, white-haired Angel. Even Aizen held a begrudging respect for them, and why not? They were clever and kind, but strong. Too strong for him to overcome, even separately. So why not make nice? "What, Yamma-ji won't see me? Not that I think the two of you are bad company."

The white hair is staring, dark eyes narrow, examining him. The dark hair takes the role of diplomat. "You look thin, Ichimaru-dono. Life on the run disagreed with you. But it's okay now, we can at least promise you three square and a dry place to sleep."

"Until it's time to kill me, of course."

"That's unusual. So you want to get right down to business?" Kyouraku is surprised, but he doesn't care. He's always taken things in stride. "Fine then. We will try you, but it's a formality. Everyone knows you were complicit. But we won't deny you a chance to speak your peace. I'd urge you to apologize, but it turns my stomach when people lie."

"And that is that?" Gin wants to know. "Will I get what I asked for?" This question is pointed towards Ukitake, whose eyes become even more narrow. "My last request?"

Of course not. That would be too easy, and she's not that kind.

"She says she will come," Ukitake says. "And she'll come alone."

"So. She will," Gin begins to laugh again.

But when she comes to him in his dream, her eyes are soft and kind. She kisses his lips and touches his cheeks; he tries and fails to resist the urge to slide down, kneel, and bury his face in her midsection, hands knotting behind her back. His lungs are leaden and he just wants to weep, but can't. When he looks up at her the violet eyes are still just as gentle as she takes the knife he gave her so long ago and sets the blade to his throat. She is frowning now.

He closes his eyes. "Do it, Rukia." There is a pause, he feels the sting, sinks back, smiling at her. "Thank you," he gurgles.

This is where he opens his eyes. Interesting, he thinks.

And begins to laugh again. This time, he has no idea why.


	5. Visits

They told him she would come; they did not say when. And so he waits. It's easy enough to clear his mind and focus on pleasant things, like the clean emptiness of his cell and the muted anxiety of the guards in charge of his safety. He's a hated man, after all. People come and go from outside the tower, some he would not notice if he weren't looking since they are so pitifully weak, and others. . .

Hitsugaya has come close several times. The killing intent in him would be frightening if it weren't soaked in grief. Gin resents this. Ran-chan didn't belong to anyone, and the white-haired whelp has no right to mourn her so. But he is always turned away before he can cross the bridge. Another precaution of the powers that be. Kyouraku was very specific here. No one would be allowed to kill Ichimaru Gin but the state.

Gin is having difficulty being grateful for this, of course. In fact, it irks him. He has grown tired of waiting around, and as the days drag on and he feels himself being sucked dry of his reiatsu he becomes peevish. He taunts his guards, which is too easy to be enjoyable. He spends his days in court smiling venomously at the jury, at least one of whom, some lackey from the fourth, returns his stare with equal or greater disgust. He speaks calmly with Ukitake when he comes, inquiring each time about the status of his request. Each time, Ukitake shakes his head. He will not order her to come, no, but she is one to keep her word, he assures the prisoner. She will come. It's here that Gin comments that she's making herself beautiful for him and the other man visibly bristles. But the thirteenth division captain is otherwise unflappable and thus not terribly fun to toy with. He is stubborn, really, more stubborn than Gin ever suspected. He wants to know what the real delay is but will not ask.

He probably wouldn't like the answer anyway. Gin has deduced from his body language that after being without a vice-captain for so long, Ukitake is hesitant to put another at risk, even if there is supposedly no reason to fear for her safety here. So that's how it is. Their sweet time together, his and Rukia's, has been shrouded in lies and misdirection, enough to make everyone doubtful of her. It's ironic that she's this proud, Gin thinks to himself when he's alone. She has no right to be.

He still remembers her voice, that smug farewell. She told him she would not wish him ill, after a while. Such a glorious fucking lie she had no idea she was telling it. She was already beginning to put him aside, remake him into a bogey man she could defeat with the light of day. Gin considers it his duty to remind her of the truth.

But like the mythical princess in the tower, there are obstacles he must overcome before he can enter her chamber and give her his poisonous kiss. Here there be dragons. The red one flies overhead several times a day when Gin is in his cell, supposedly helpless. He never lands, but he is in the habit of making all kinds of obscene noises so there can be no mistake that he his present, potent, and perturbed. This must be due to sexual frustration, Gin decides. He makes a mental note: the easiest way to rile Abarai is to inform him that he's fucked his princess. Multiple times.

The other dragon shows himself, often. He attends the trial from time to time (no one would dare challenge his right to be there) and often takes it upon himself to lead the escort back to the Repentance Cell. His silence is his trademark, his arrogance his birthright. Although Gin is safe and knows it, he is cautious not to look at him too often. Kuchiki is a pillar of the community, but every man has a breaking point. Gin is weaker now and if he were to inadvertently drive the sixth division captain over the edge, no one would lift a finger to save him. He's pretty sure he'd be ripped to shreds before anyone even thought of it. All this for the sake of a princess who will keep her word—in her own good fucking time.

Which is why he thinks he's dreaming again when he opens his eyes and there is a shadow in the corner. It is not stationary. It moves as if it's floating, shrouded in dark but for the white fingers that graze the walls. As it passes a narrow window the moon falls on jetty hair and illuminates narrow, violet eyes. She is considerably cleaner than she was when he saw her last. And her reiatsu is unmistakable, especially here where she certainly left some of it before. She is tiny and huge, and she despises him. The wards that keep her from reaching in and snapping his neck are strong enough, so he hazards a greeting. "It's about time, you little bitch."

And she's immediately on his level. "Fuck you. I came, I saw, I'm _leaving_." She stands with her hands behind her back, measuring, calculating.

"Do one more thing for me."

She tilts her head.

"Turn around once. Let me really look."

She shakes her head. "You've seen plenty."

"Huh. I guess you are above flaunting what I had and let get away."

"Maybe I am." A pause. "Why did you do it?"

"I was bored, you know. You were a fugitive once. You know how tiresome it is, the hiding, the anxiety." He rises, stretches. "I wanted to see this place again, I suppose." The hair is rising on the back of his neck. The last time she was this calm before him, she snowed him in. But. . .he cannot help himself. "And I was wondering how tight you are now." He stands back and waits.

She stares him down. Then turns away. Then stops, pivots, faces him again. "What a disappointment you are," she says before she leaves.

He nods, agreeing with her though she doesn't know it. But it doesn't matter. She's betrayed herself already.

"She'll be back," he says to the air.


	6. Crimes and Misdemeanors

The guards eye her as she leaves. They're not the same two who kept her company all that time ago. But of course they know her. She looks away so she will not be tempted to answer the questions in their eyes. And they will not see the rage that has already begun to bubble to the surface. He was a disappointment. That assessment was utterly, frustratingly correct.

If only she knew why she wasn't satisfied. Oh yes. She never said what it was she wanted to say. He backed her into a corner until she struck out, the old defensiveness back in place even though she knew it was useless. He always did this to her. She has not changed at all. Not at all. And in the end, he let her get away, just as he said.

Let her.

Might as well have tied a string around her waist, the way he tugged her back when he wanted amusement. And she has no means to sever that cord. _Damn, damn, damn._ She won't be at peace again until he breathes his last, and that knowledge makes her feel like a vulture. Because the end is surely coming for that miserable soul, and she is horribly delighted. Once that person is gone, he won't be able to invade her dreams anymore. And they'll be empty. _Just like me_, she thinks. It's ironic that it took the presence of the man who destroyed her soul bit by bit to resurrect it. Ironic. And horrible.

Shirayuki has already stopped talking. She knows how awful this really is, and does not bother to hide her disgust. Rukia imagines that for her, it must have been like watching a sand castle be swallowed by a sudden tide. _Of course it is fragile and by no means permanent. But you can't help but be irritated at it, into which you poured all of your passion and hard work, and at the tide, which you knew would surely come but hoped it would delay, just a little, to show a little respect for your labor. Is this how you see me now, Shirayuki? A thing that despite all your efforts to fix it remained pigheadedly broken?_

Shirayuki isn't answering. Rukia sighs to herself as she walks forward in the dark.

She has already passed the thirteenth squad compound. Her head is swimming and despite her exhaustion she does not long for her comfortable futon and pillow. Far from it. She passes through the gate and leaves Sereitei for the place of her origin.

Rukongai has not changed either. Many of the houses are dark, but the light coming from the business district is blinding. There is ample fun to be had here, legal or not. In an alley she passes, a game of fan-tan is in full swing, attended by dirty men of various sizes, all howling. They're already drunk. _Not such a bad idea_, she thinks to herself. She's in the thirty-eighth district now. There is a pub here Ukitake frequents with Kyouaku, and sometimes meets Yoruichi clandestinely (he thinks). There would be a quiet place to take a cup of sake and rest her frenzied brain.

If only she could make it that far. Shouts ring out from nearby, quickly turning to roars. A body flies out of the door of a bar,—more like is hurled out—lands with a grunt in the street and is still. It is followed by two others in rapid succession, and as the screams inside the bar become more deafening, they are clearly approaching the door and the street. One is unmistakable. "Stupid cock sucking fuckers! Don'cha know you don't pick a fucking fight before you know who you're picking it with?"

Beside him, Yumichika yawns. "They _know_ who you are, Ikkaku."

"What the fuck ever. You want some more?" This is aimed at the last of the offending parties, who is moving his legs as if he could get away by merely rolling down the street. But he's been beaten up too badly and the effort only earns him another blackout. Ikkaku slings his his wooden sword across his shoulder blades and grins. "Let's hit the next one." He glances up and his face collapses when he spots Rukia. "You're—out late."

"So are you," she says, stepping over the bodies. "Is it that night already?"

"No." The last of the group comes to the door, and he's even more haggard than the last time she saw him.

She gapes. "Renji—you're bleeding."

He gazes down numbly at the slash in his shirt that was deeper than he thought. The cut on his chest is deep and the stain is rapidly growing. He begins to sway. "Just thought we'd let off some steam, you know?" She reaches him just as he begins to topple over.

"Looks like he's done in for the night," Ikkaku chuckles. "Better go to the fourth and get that patched up." He looks at Rukia one more time, shakes himself, and strides down the street. Yumichika follows close behind.

"Hey!"

They turn, as if surprised.

"Aren't you going to help me? He's heavy and I can't carry him!"

Ikkaku waves an arm as he turns away again. "Not my problem. I ain't no babysitter, not for no grown men who get scraped up in dumb fights with weaker people."

Renji moans a little bit, leaning into her as she stares after him. _Great_, she thinks. "We'll take it slow. Just stay with me and walk, okay?"

"'Kay," he murmurs. The scent of alcohol on him is strong but already fading. It is gone completely, washed away by the night air, by the time she reaches the thirteenth division barracks. The pair stumble into her room and he collapses into the chair at her desk.

"Hold on, I'll get some bandages." One of the advantages of having a sickly captain is that first aid supplies are always readily found. She returns with warm water, rags, and bandages. She kneels in front of him, tugging off the ripped top. She tenses when he does, his pain is so evident. "Just hold on, it'll be better in a minute." No point in asking him what happened. He'd never tell her anyway. She bites her lip. She knows he's angry—been angry with her since she told him she'd go. So angry he stopped talking to her. It was just as well, she thought. He was always in the habit of asking her things she did not want to answer, and the visit to Ichimaru Gin would be fodder for a serious inquisition. She gently wiped him down until she was satisfied that there was no more blood on him. The wound needed stitches and they both knew it, even though it had stopped bleeding. She no longer has the healing artifacts she used in the living world. Custom dictates that amateurs cannot not tread on the territory of the Fourth Division when they are so close by, and offending them is a bad idea. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Hana? He'll come," she says.

"No," he says. His voice is barely a whisper.

She nods a little, pressing gauze to the wound A little pressure made it stick just enough for her to reach the tape, rip it, and press it to all four corners. But that little bit of pressure elicits a hiss from him. "Sorry—sorry," she says, grimacing.

His hand rises, covers hers. She frowns at it, the white roughness, the long, tapered fingers over her own. He bends closer; loose strands of red hair brush her cheeks. He sets his lips to her temple as his free hand finds her shoulder and grips it tightly.

Possessively.

She looks up at him. "I'm the one who's sorry," he says softly. Of course he's not drunk. Not anymore. And he could not be more clear if the wound were still open and exposing his beating heart.

And the gaping space where her own heart should be is becoming a vacuum. His eyes are soft. She wonders if it's really his hunger she's looking at, and not her own reflected back at her. _No_, her mind quails. _Yes_, the hollowness exhales.

His kiss is the same as she remembers it from that time. Unsteady, unsure at first, then becoming greedy and wet. Both of his hands are on her neck, sliding upwards. Her own are on his wrists, not stopping them, but not urging them on either. Her eyes are closed and she can hear the rush of her pulse in her ears as easily as she can hear Renji's ragged breathing—if he gets much further he won't be able to stop

She pulls away, crouches on her knees and stares as his eyes flutter open and affix themselves to her face. "I won't do that to you," she says.

"You have before," he whispers. "You _needed _to."

The anger she forgot about surges back, almost choking her. "What I need isn't your business," she snarls. "I don't need a another reason to feel like shit."

"Do I make you sick?"

"No. _No_. Damn you, stop pushing!"

"Stop pulling away then!" She looks up at him and his eyes are bright. "If I can't be what you need, at least tell me what it is! I can pass you off. I did it before. But I can't stand you like this. If you're going to let _him_ get to you I'd rather kill you myself than watch!"

She shakes her head. "Then you'd better do it. I'm going back, you know." _Cutting him this way is right_, she thinks. _This way he won't be watching anymore. And he won't pity me. But if he leaves me—I'll be alone again with Gin. _The resolve melts away as quickly as it came and she wants nothing more than to take what she's been offered, let him hold her and forget it all for as long as she can. But she's already crossed the line. She's lost him.

"_Why?_" he demands.

"I don't know!" Her breath catches again, and she can feel the tears coming. After all this time. She looks up at him and knows her entire body is pleading. But he's already rising and putting back on the shreds of his shirt.

"You _do_ know," he says. "Stop lying about it and face it. And don't come near me again until you can prove you're fucking thinking straight."

And he is gone.

She closes her eyes. They're already dry. Even though there's nothing else to do but cry, she still can't. It's justice, really. The justice Renji won't ever know he's getting. For what she's done to him, she should never be forgiven. Never.

Being unpardonable, after all, is another thing she shares with Ichimaru Gin.


	7. Repeat

The country of his dreams is lush and green and has flowing rivers of red-gold hair. Still. Peaks and valleys roll endlessly and breathe, deep and slow, a slight melodic hum coming from the caves and canyons. The wind often sings his name, the way she once did. "Gin," she would say as she lay on her back, her wrist on her forehead and her lips beckoningly parted. Of all of her parts, her tongue will always rate as second or third of his favorites. The first, of course, being her eyes, which are never closed the way his are, seeing into and through and all around him. There's nowhere to hide from her gaze and he doesn't, didn't, ever wish to. He's been naked before her more times than he can count, and it was not always for the purpose of joining his body to hers. Even as children, they never feared exposing themselves to each other. Not their bodies, not their souls. Nothing. _If you could look at me again, Ran-chan, set your eyes on me. . ._ he would gladly sleep forever.

The blue-gray eyes that meet his when he wakes do not belong to Rangiku. The barrier has been lowered and another body has come close to his, but it is no one he anticipated or desired. He opens his mouth to speak and is horrified by the choking sound his larynx makes. But he is having no trouble breathing. He can only look up accusingly at the person who has invaded his space.

She is unflappable, is Unohana Retsu. Her hands are white and warm and he shivers at the tickle her long, thick braid creates on his chest as she leans close, a short, slender black canister in her hand circling his head. "Please do not move, Ichimaru-dono. I am almost finished. I did not want to disturb you, I'm sorry."

Unable to respond in words, he scowls at her, though he knows this will do no good. For Unohana Retsu was one of the few shinigami even Aizen balked at challenging. Gin has no wish to find out why.

When she is satisfied she rises, steps only a few feet away and stands, observing him, hands delicately clasped in front of her. "The trial is over," she says finally. Her gaze as steady as she waits for a response.

"Ah," Gin replies, stretching on the futon and coughing a little. "And how"― he pauses, the raspiness in his voice is startling―"am I to die?"

Her smile is not patronizing. Nor is it comforting. "That decision has not been made yet," she says. "Perhaps it would be best for you to think of other things, for now."

"Not much of a bedside manner you have."

"I give each patient the treatment he needs."

"Am I a patient?"

"One of many, Ichimaru-dono." She turns, gazes out of the window towards where the scaffold no longer stands. "It was not so long ago the other was here in your place, and I must say she was far less agitated when I visited her than she is now. I must say you have impressed me with your ability to wreck such a calm, again and again. And Hitsugaya-taichou has been half-mad since before you came back. You are completely aware of the chaos you are, and you are unashamed of it. Quite a self-esteem you have."

"What is it you really want to say?"

"What I just said. And this: If you wish to be at peace when you face your end, I can tell you how."

Half a turn and those eyes are on him again. "It's merely a suggestion. I would not have done my duty had I not informed you."

"Then you'll understand if I don't thank you for it." He rolls over; he'd rather be exposing his ass to her, but he knows that'll only amuse her. So calm is Unohana Retsu. "If you're done, I would like to resume my contemplation of my guilt."

The ban is back up and she is outside of it. "No use in lying to me," she says. "Comfort yourself with your memories of Matsumoto-san. No one can begrudge you those."

He frowns at the wall. Meddling old bitch. She wasn't even here to gloat. But Rangiku. . .

He must have been dreaming of her. She's never left him. Never, ever. Especially not the picture in his mind of her eyes, wide open but dimming, as she falls, red-gold hair streaming behind her. The picture always accompanied by his scream. His own scream.

"I could hear you outside." Funny. He didn't even hear her enter. When he rolls over she is standing in the same spot where Unohana Retsu stood, only her hands are on her hips and her face is red. "Scream all you want. You're already a dead man." The violet eyes are bloodshot and her rage is somehow different from what he's used to. He doesn't know whether to be pleased or horrified. "In fact, let me do you the same favor you did me. I'll get your zanpaktou and you can fall on it."

"Are we a tad irritable today, my love?" He sits up. "Lower the barrier, Rukia-chan. I can make it all better for you."

"The way you made it better for Matsumoto-san?" Her lips turn upward in a smile he thought only he had. He can feel the blood draining from his face, and _damn, damn, damn_. . .

"Oh, I know. Hitsugaya-taichou knows. We all know what you are and how far you sank. Stupid bastard, the only one who would have spoken up for you, and you killed her." She is pacing. "How could you? How did you? Did she fall against you, did you feel her heart pump out the last of her blood? Did she plead with you? Did you enjoy tearing her apart? Did you―" She stops, eyes wide and haunted. She knows as well as he does that her words are just as much for herself. He doesn't need to turn the table on her, she does a perfect job of that all on her own. He would find it deliriously satisfying if his mind weren't racing with that red-gold hair caked with blood.

"I didn't," his voice chokes out. "I never. I _never._"

"Never is a promise," she hisses. "You've already broken it." She shakes her head, because today they share a brain. He's broken his promise, she's trampled on hers. Like him before Aizen scooped him up and ever after, the dark wells up in her and all she can do is spread it.

"When did you become me?" he asks her back as she flees.


	8. Snapshots

She cannot return to work, not when she's like this. It's morning and she has not slept, not since Renji left her. She couldn't. Didn't want to. Rest would only have dulled the pain she wanted to wallow in. But now, her vision is blurred and she can think of nothing but her own warm futon where she can close her eyes and let the dark wash over her. She knows she's too exhausted to dream. No, she doesn't know. She's only hoping. But a hope, even one as feeble as this, is more than she's had in a while. She can get Kiyone or Sentaro to fill in for her today. They won't question her, not after seeing her face. She knows she must look a mess. Hopefully it's enough of a mess that she'll be allowed to sleep for a good, long time. . .

Ukitake is waiting for her as she approaches her chamber. His face is not agitated, but he grimaces. "Renji was here last night, I understand."

She nods at him mutely.

"Did you fight with him?" She blinks, gapes at him. He realizes his overstep and raises his hands in non-aggression. "Never mind that. You haven't slept. I'm sure the last few days have been exhausting for you. Why don't you let Kiyone take over and get some rest?"

The relief must have flooded her face. He chuckles. "Can't have you burning out now, you just started. Go get some sleep."

She bows deep. There's no real way to convey her gratitude that won't make him worry and she knows it. She leaves him there standing in the mid-morning light, seeks out her bed and sinks into a restless but dreamless sleep.

Which in all actuality lasts barely three hours. Her eyes open when the noon light cuts its inevitable path across her bed. She closes her eyes again, but the sleep is gone and won't come back. She sighs, shoves off her covers, rises. She is still tired, but she can start again now. She has work to do. She makes her way to her office, Kaien's old office, which was a shrine and in some ways, still is. Right down to his former captain kneeling before his picture, paying his respects. She doesn't hesitate to kneel beside him. He is silent a long time before he speaks.

"I need to apologize. I did not mean to pry this morning, but the guard at the gate mentioned Abarai-kun was upset. I needed to know if you were okay."

"He had been drinking," she tells him. "I said some things that hit a sore spot with him. You know how it is with childhood friends," she tries to laugh.

"He has been worried about you, as has your brother. And I have been concerned as well." He is looking at her now, and his face is serious. "Two visits so far. What is it you're seeking there?"

Her hands curl themselves into fists as she stares at them. "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking."

He sighs a little and she feels his hand on her head. "Perhaps you don't know yourself. It's not my intent to push. But if there is anything I can do to help, I hope you know there's nothing I would not do. You are my vice-captain now. I will support you in any way I can."

She shakes her head. "It's not like that, Ukitake-taichou. I don't need help. I wish everyone would stop worrying."

He nods, rising. "I understand." He clearly does not, but does not want to debate it with her. "There is something I need you to do today."

She looks up at him.

"I need you to report to Unohana-taichou. She sent me a message after you had retired this morning. There is something she wants to confirm, but needs you to be present when she does it."

"Does she need me immediately?" Rukia stands anxiously. Unohana is not in the habit of making demands of members of other squads; this must be urgent.

"She says she tried to catch you leaving the repentance shrine, but you were not there for as long as she had anticipated."

"How did she know—"

"That you were there?" He sets a hand on her shoulder. "I believe that's a question she'll answer for you herself."

They walk together to the hallway where the compound gates and his office are in opposite directions.

She stops, bows a little. "Ukitake-taichou—I am sorry to worry you." She walks slowly toward the doorway when he says her name. She half turns. He is noble and good and bathed in sunlight. A black cat is circling his ankle.

"Worrying about you is something like my job," he says. "Never be sorry for that."

"If you keep saying uncool things like that," Yoruichi yawns after Rukia is out of earshot, "people will start taking you for a pushover."

He kneels and scratches her between her ears. "This coming from the one who broke my will in the first place," he chuckles. "Will you go and tell Urahara?"

She nuzzles his hand. "Kisuke can wait. For now, let's just let Retsu-san handle it."

* * *

Unohana's office is white and sterile, but not unwelcoming. A western-style desk is accompanied by three chairs, one of which Rukia gratefully sinks into when offered. She closes her eyes. It's beyond comfortable. She is not fooled, though. This is probably exactly as Unohana-taichou planned it.

And so it is. Without a word she is close. "Just relax, Kuchiki-dono," she murmurs. Rukia feels one gentle hand in her hair, stroking slow and soft as the other waves something in front of her eyes, around her temple, and as low as her chest. An exam? She opens her mouth to ask and is shocked when no sound comes out.

"Don't be alarmed. It's an unfortunate side effect of the scan. Your voice will come back in a few moments." Finishing, Unohana shows her a short, black cannister no wider than her pinky finger. "It's designed to extract an image of your zanpaktou's form. Not the physical form we see on this plane, but the shape it shows when it allows you into its world. I have only performed two such tests. The other was one Ichimaru Gin." She is pacing, just a little. "Kuchiki-dono, it has fallen to the Captains to decide the fate of that man. The information I have gathered is reason enough for me to ask that his soul be spared." She scans Rukia's face. "Why? I think you already know, better than anyone."

"Somehow I doubt that," Rukia says, rubbing her throat. "I was planning on being front and center to watch him die."

"You mean what you say, I know that. But there is something you are not thinking about here. What useful purpose will his death—not just the termination of his bodily functions, but the destruction of his soul—serve?"

Rukia rolls her eyes. "It serves justice. For the sake of Soul Society."

"And not for you? Or Hitsugaya-taichou? What about Matsumoto-san?"

"His crimes were against Soul Society." Rukia rubs her eyes.

"In general. And against Matsumoto-san in particular. And you."

Rukia shakes her head and looks away.

"It's your business. But it is also mine, as your physician. Look at this." Unohana presses the side of the cannister with her thumb. A light scatters, reforms, shifting and becoming bright. Only the image is not as shiny as it once was. "This is not not Sode no Shirayuki, is it?"

The eyes are dim, all of her is dim. Her haughty expression is gone. Her white robe is dingy. "It is," Rukia murmurs. Her hands grip the arms of the chair. So this is why she's gone silent.

"Your state is your zanpaktou's state. She has lost her ability to absorb your misery. She's overflowing with it. This is because of what he did to you, but that's only part of it, isn't it?"

Rukia shakes her head. "Shirayuki's state has nothing to do with Gin."

Unohana's eyes narrow. "If you continue to lie, you will never recover. That fate has already befallen that soul in the repentance cell."

"What are you driving at?"

"Ichimaru Gin murdered Matsumoto Rangiku. His zanpaktou told me so. What yours tells me is that you are drowning in a darkness not entirely unlike his. Does your hand need to slay Abarai Renji, or maybe even Kurosaki Ichigo, before you can face it?"

"That will never happen."

"Never? You say that easily now. Look at this before you commit to those words." The cannister is flickering again, and the image makes Rukia gasp.

It is as still as anyone has ever seen this form. The hair is the same, the eyes and the supple chest are the same, but they are still and the face has a sadness to it the living soul never had. "For the shift to have been this complete, the change must have happened long before he killed her. He loved her more than his own life, and therefore hated her. It is in the nature of those who cannot accept their own darkness to wish those surrounding them to share it. In the end, she was the only light in his soul and he could not bear it. And I'm sure she knew it. But he didn't so much kill her as much as she offered up her life for his. To end his pain. Somewhere deep down, he understands this, hence the state of his zanpaktou. Ichimaru Gin must die and he will. But his soul—I cannot endorse the blatant disregard of her sacrifice. Do you understand?"

Rukia shakes her head. "I do understand what you're saying. Shirayuki told me once I could save him, but—I didn't want to. All I could think about was saving myself. And I hated him, so much. So much. I still do. I don't want to see him get off scott-free. I want him—I want him to suffer. Who can be like that? How can I have that in me and still be standing? How can I ever have faced Renji—or anyone—with that in my heart?" The tears are coming. She stops herself, stops them. Looks up at Unohana Retsu, whose face is a blanket of empathy. Something is not right here. She's in a corner and she did not put herself there. "Killing two birds with one stone, aren't you. You've already smoothed over Hitsugaya-taichou, haven't you."

Unohana shakes her head. "The healing he needs is of a different sort. Do not concern yourself with it. But as for you and Gin, I knew the connection ran deeper than you were willing to admit. I consulted Urahara Kisuke, and it seems he was already working on something. It's a happy coincidence it may work for Gin as well."

"Wait, are you saying he's been concerned with my wellbeing?"

Unohana smiles at her, a sad smile. "It's the only way he could devise to apologize to you."

"I don't accept it." Again, the words are on Rukia's lips before she can think.

Unohana closes her eyes. "He told me you might not. In which case I have secured some time for you to go and see him. I would advise you not to return until you have told him how you feel. Maybe that's what you've needed all along."

"I don't need it. I'm not going."

Unohana's face only briefly displays disappointment. "Well then, I see there is nothing else I can do."

Rukia only bows and takes her leave.

The fucking nerve. The _nerve_ of that man. He's worse than Gin in ways no one can see. She grimaces. Before she is fully aware of what she's doing, there is a hell butterfly at her side and she is headed toward the living world. She doesn't need it, she thinks.

But she wants it all the same.


	9. The Value of Amends

"Leave your zanpaktou there." He thumbs towards the counter where Tessai stands, braced but impassive.

She scowls at him. "Like I could possibly pose a threat to your dirty ass."

His smile, much like the rest of him, is brilliant. His clothes are the same but she realizes there was never a time he was not looking perfect, bright and shiny. His gray eyes dance with something she hopes like hell isn't mischief. "It's merely a precaution, Kuchiki-san. You're in a bad temper and I know you're in the habit of throwing things when you hit your limit." He blinks, cocks his head. "Come to think of it, you should probably leave your phone, too."

"I didn't bring it."

He holds out his hand. She gives a huff and puts it in his hand, followed by Shirayuki. "We'll head to the back, and I'll make you some nice, soothing tea, eh Kuchiki-san?" he says as he hands the confiscated items to Tessai. Then he gestures her to follow him and she obeys, scanning the place. It hasn't changed at all.

"Where are the kids?" she asks.

"Ururu is somewhere. . . I sent Jinta on an errand. He should be back momentarily." He slides open the door to his sitting room, gestures for her to enter. As she settles down, he fills a small pot and sets it on a portable burner. "I understand congratulations are in order. Who would have thought, when we first met, you would become such an essential person?"

"Certainly not you. Isn't it inconvenient that I lived and you still lost the Hou Gyoku to him?"

He pauses, scratches his chin. "From a certain point of view, I suppose, yes."

She gapes at him

"You asked. Lying to you now is a useless activity, now that everyone knows the truth." He settles on his haunches in front of her. "I don't deny that there are certain things I orchestrated, but there are an equal number of things I tried to do and failed miserably. I never took disappointment well, I'm afraid."

"How far back?" Her throat is tightening. "How far back does your meddling go?"

The tea kettle begins to whistle and he pours her a cup. "This is a long story and there are parts you won't like. Please be sure you don't throw that at me while it still has tea in it."

She stares down at her cup. "I can't make that promise."

He shrugs, but his hand is steady while he pours his tea. "I'm learning to accept the consequences of my actions," he says. "You're still a little more mild than Yoruichi, so I think I may be able to deal with it if you want to scald me. Let me start with this: I knew when I left Soul Society that Aizen Sousuke was something of a monster. I knew because I could see myself in him. But when I left I had no intention of confronting him. I thought maybe Soul Society deserved what it got."

"You thought." She is still staring at her cup. What did she expect, anyway? A heartfelt apology and a hug? He still doesn't have that in him, and that's obvious. But she will listen for as long as she can.

"I am still just as arrogant, mind you. Not as bad as he was. I suppose that's why when I got bored here I felt I needed to force him above ground. I just didn't know how I would do it. But then I noticed something strange here in town. Spirit pressure, getting stronger daily."

"Ichigo?"

He nods. "Considering who his father is, I should not have been surprised. But as he got stronger, the hollows in the area were beginning to sense him. I owed Isshin a favor, so I monitored him very closely for a long time. I had a plan for if there was an attack on him, but it seems someone interfered." He looks at her, eyes becoming dark and solemn. "I did nothing to cause or arrange your assignment here. But that it was you and not someone else—the irony amused me. So I did a little research on you. I already knew then about Kaien. But the other things—your childhood, your adoption—all these factors played into something of an astronomical coincidence, if you will. You took your duty seriously because you were so anxious to prove yourself. You would dare to get close to the cause of the disturbances you sensed to satisfy your duty and your pride as a shinigami. And when you were confronted with Kaien's face, you could not let him die, even if it cost you your own life. And, backed into a corner, you did a desperate thing, one that shamed you because you failed in your duty but also pleased you. It did please you, didn't it, to break the rules because it felt right?"

"It did," she admits.

"Despite the conflict in you, you wanted to feel you could still be good. That you _were_ good. And while he never thanked you in so many words, the ways he showed his gratitude made you happy. You were—are—proud of that boy."

"That's pretty obvious."

He smiles, leans forward and chucks her chin. "Pretty when you blush like that. But in the same time you were reacting to him, he was reacting in kind to you. I knew he would, because that's the sort of boy he is. He's a lot simpler than you are, but your honor codes are remarkably similar. I had hoped when you became human, you would become good friends."

"But that never happened. You didn't plan on the Menos, did you." She looks up at him.

"I didn't. But that Quincy brat made an alternate, more appealing plan possible. I knew, depending on the reaction of Soul Society, I would be able to tell if Aizen had found me out. If not, Ichigo's retrieval of you and the Hou Gyoku would have been simple, I would have made you another gigai and it would have been over. But when it was your brother and Abarai Renji that were sent, I smelled Aizen's hands all over it. And I'm not ashamed to admit I was glad."

She shakes her head. "You really are despicable. The damage you caused, to Ichigo, to Inoue—all of us."

"I disagree, but I can see where you'd get that assessment. I saw my mistake, and I did fix it. Killing Aizen was the easy part, you know."

"Despicable _and_ arrogant."

"I said I was arrogant a long time ago. Weren't you listening? But let's get down to it now. In the course of the war I caused, you were forced to meet and fight the hollow that destroyed Shiba Kaien's soul and then you were held captive by Ichimaru Gin. During which time he did things that were unforgivable. He added to the confusion that was already in you, and you don't understand how or if you can find your way out. Am I close?"

She stares at him.

"Rukia-chan, we all have conflict. It's how we deal with it that makes us who we are. And although you think you cannot escape it, the bottom line is that you do have a choice. And so did Gin. I can say the same of myself and Sousuke. We were two sides of the same coin, in a way. But we both made our own choices, for good or bad. But I am not him and you are not Gin. He saw parts of himself in you and wanted to create a bond, that's all."

"If what he wanted was that basic, why—"

"Why was it so easy to stir you up? You already know, but it's not the whole story. Your darkness is your guilt, and guilt is the worst of emotions. It makes you question yourself and your nature. But you could only see the bad and none of your good traits. Even _before_ he crossed your path, I think. That part of you helped me for a time, but I did not choose you in order to mangle you further. I chose you because you were convenient, but also because I knew you would survive it. I could not have dared it with lesser souls than yours and Ichigo's. That is over, but your lives were always your own. You can make your own path, as you always had."

"Then—"

"Choose to do what you know to be right. It's that simple."

"Can Shirayuki return to normal?" She sets down her cup.

"Of course she can. And so can you. I have the feeling she tried to tell you that more than once."

She shakes her head. "It can't be that simple."

"Maybe it won't be. But if it's hard for you, isn't it only because you make it hard? Stop resenting how easy other people's live are, and concentrate on your own." He tilts his head a little, smiles again. "You can rely on my experience here. I wouldn't be telling you if I thought it was impossible."

She's had enough. The circles he talks in have made her dizzy, disoriented. She fires off at him the only way she knows how. "Is this how you apologize?" She demands.

"No," he says, "this is how I make amends. I can repair the damage I've done to you. But to truly atone, I decided it would be best to help you mend the damage you've done to yourself. Call it me trying to do something useful." He winks, then looks toward the door. "Abarai-kun is here. Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't call him."

She rises slowly, turns. There's something he has not spoken of. "But what about Gin's soul?"

Urahara Kisuke looks at her quizzically. "What about it?" Then he frowns. "Did Ukitake send you here?"

"No. Unohana-taichou."

He falls back and begins to laugh. "We've both been had, you know. She really knows how to get her point across, that one." He rises, presses a slender black cannister into her hand. "Use it with care."

She is so shocked that it's only after she leaves that she remembers she didn't throw anything at him. She mentions this to Renji as they walk into the twilight. "Better luck next time," he smiles at her, and she smiles back. "Did you get what you wanted?"

"No," she says. "That guy is full of it. But he does make things look different."

"Does he?"

"Renji—there's something I want to show you."

Renji doesn't say anything. The doors open in front of them. He nods at her in that reassuring way he has and when she takes his hand, he lets her. _This is the best place to start_, she thinks to herself.


	10. His Precious

He's not really here anymore. He's somewhere else. Someplace _other_.

"Ne, Gin-chan." Her finger curls around his thumb—her tiny, tender trap—and he can't move. He shifts a little on his back and stares upward at the gleaming sun. She's always holding his hand, grazing his body, stroking his heart.

"Ne, Gin."

"Mm."

"Where do we go when we die?"

He huffs. "Fuck if I know."

"Seriously."

"I really don't care."

"Then why do you pray with me for Oba-chan?"

"Because you want me to." The old woman is less than a shadow to him now, the one who took care of them a lifetime ago, gave her life for them a second ago.

His companion is silent, but not for long enough. "Don't you miss her?"

The air darkens. The stones move into place and his circular cell tries to shield him. But he is compelled to answer. She's asking him something. "I guess," he says to the air.

There must be a crack somewhere. She can still reach him. "You _guess_." His heart twists when he hears the disappointment in her voice.

"I miss her," he says.

Silence.

He's a day late and a dollar short. He wonders why his first answers are always wrong. It doesn't matter anymore, since he's answered one too many questions wrong and now he can't feel her finger wrapped around his. Never again. Never, _ever_. Oh fuck, oh _fuck_. _Never_.

He only realizes that he's screaming again when one of the guards pounds on the ban. "Shut your damn mouth or I'll shut it for you!"

But it's too deep in him and too urgent, now. He couldn't stop if he wanted to. The guard does all there's left for him to do and the black feathers descend, making Gin's world dark again.

He awakens to voices, thankfully not his own.

". . .back with Abarai-kun last night. She's remarkably improved—in such a short time. I'm a little curious, Retsu. How are you doing all this?" Ukitake.

"Isn't it obvious?" Her tone is almost disdainful. "Those who truly desire healing will lead themselves to it. All I did was point out a clear route."

"Don't play with me, I beg you. You have more knowledge at your disposal. But to suggest that Kuchiki-fukutaichou only needed to _want_ it is oversimplifying it, isn't it?"

"Is that where she gets it from? Is every member of the thirteenth division complicated like this because you've got an affinity for making things difficult? Oh, the anguish! Juu-chan, this is all because you fell for someone who spends too much time with Urahara-kun. Everything is a maze and an enigma. Why _can't_ things be simple?" The amusement in her voice is helium-filled and buoyant. Until her gray eye falls onto Gin. Then her gravity returns in less than the blink of an eye. "Do _you_ know, Ichimaru-dono?"

Gin sits up. "Will it be on the final exam?" he asks, almost feebly.

Unohana steps close, her delicate white hand grazing the ban. "It_ is_ the final exam." The barrier drops and Gin sways, the wave of the combined reiatsu of two captains washing over him. He does not find it menacing, or even disapproving. Perhaps it is a small comfort that they apparently could care less. "You should stand and catch your breath," she says. "The twelfth division compound isn't far, but you're weakened. You'll need your strength."

"No ceremonial guard will be escorting us," Ukitake says, moving to stand beside her. "You will be bound but not blindfolded. It is late and we have instituted a curfew. No one will be watching save whom we've selected to observe."

It's soon. Sooner than he thought it would be. But this is it. He can only rise, take two short steps toward them, and hold out his wrists. Ukitake frowns as he forms the cuffs, done with kidou, of course. They are a striking shade of blue, almost translucent. When he looks back up into Gin's face, the smile is already back. "Can't keep my public waiting, can I?"

The captains exchange glances, he anxious, she reassuring. The small group moves down the stairwell toward the exit. Between them, Gin can only gaze forward.

"_Ne, Gin-chan. Where do we go when we die?"_

_I don't know, Ran-chan. Maybe you can show me. _

Maybe—oh fuck, oh _fuck._

He's on his knees. Strong hands are on either side of him, trying to pull him upward. He cannot stand. Wants to, but can't. His legs are gone? No, they're here. Just not co-operating. He is gasping. Too much reiatsu here, and he has too little to combat it. They don't even get it, the stupid fucks. The voices around him are not stern, but curious. ". . .weak now, of all times?" Komamura.

"Too bad Hitsugaya-taichou isn't here to see this." Hisagi, the edge in his voice sharp as tempered steel.

"They kept Kira away, too. Probably for the best. . ." Isane?

"Ichimaru-dono. There is a chair here. Can you sit?" Kyouraku, and his voice is kind. Behind the chair is a short table. On the table, encased in a barrier of its own, is Shinsô. As he sits, he can feel the arms wrap themselves around his chest. Her cheek is next to his and it is so warm . . . _I've missed you._

But this isn't—he is shamed. He cannot remember the last time he saw the form of his own zanpaktou. This is not how he remembers it. _It._ But now it's _her._ His brow knits; he wants to turn around and do something to it.

The room is darkening, more than it already is, except for some artificial light that surrounds him and this false zanpaktou. A stronger voice is here, everywhere. "Ichimaru Gin. Former Shinigami, former Fifth squad fukutaichou, and former Third squad taichou. You have been found guilty of the crime of treason against Soul Society, encompassing several smaller crimes including conspiracy and attempted murder. You will suffer the ultimate punishment, the manipulation of your physical body until it ceases to function, followed by the complete annihilation of your soul. Do you wish to address us before your sentence is carried out?"

_There's nothing left to say_, Shinsô says in the voice that does not belong to it. The words are on his lips, but he can do no more than whisper them. The now-invisible crowd murmurs its response, the voices melting together so he cannot understand them.

"Then we will begin."

His body tenses. His mind is racing. All this, not in spite of his fear of dying, but because of it. . . _Relax, Gin-chan. This isn't like my death. It'll be like going to sleep._ This can't be her. He's aware of little else but the confused, useless anger boiling to the surface, malicious blood flooding his brain as it no doubt swells. She'd never say that. She'd never—

He cannot feel it, whatever they're doing. No, that's not exactly true. It's a hum only he can hear, a solemn call pulling the life from his body. It doesn't matter how they are doing it. It's calm and horrible. Death by Soukyouku would have been preferable to this interminable waiting game.

His eyes are open, gazing at his knees. He cannot blink. _Like going to sleep_, she says again and he forces his head upward. He can see them all now. Ukitake and Kyouraku side by side, faces impassive. Komamura, giant furry that he is, his expression is inexplicable . . and then the lights flash out again. Is it over?

His hands are free. The silence around him is fogging the rest of his senses, but there she is. Violet eyes in a grim white face. No. Gray eyes, bright with something other than tears. She kneels before him and he lays his hands on her shoulders, buries his face in her neck and imagines being shrouded in red gold hair. "Let go."

"Ran-chan," he gasps.

"Shh. . ." Her hand is in his hair. "It's okay."

He lifts his head to face her. Rukia's lips are slightly parted; he cannot hear any words coming from them. He can only blink.

"I had a bad dream," he murmurs. "I saw my eyes peeking out of yours."

She nods at him.

"Are they gone now? My eyes?" He can't see anything anymore. She cannot answer, will not. Her lips on his are soft, merciful, and quick. He gasps. This isn't what he wanted, from either of them. He wanted the gray eyes to know. His love is eternal and endless, she has to know. _Has_ to. "Ran-chan, I'm sor—"

"I forgive you," both voices cut him off as his thoughts drop away. He never gets a chance to thank them.

Rukia is not crying. Tears have no place here, not anymore. The chair is empty and the zanpaktou that was behind it is slowly fading away. No one needs to ask if it is over.

Rukia scans the witnesses to find that one face. She is grateful neither her brother nor Renji were here to see; they could never understand. Unohana nods at her. The secret they share will never be uttered.

As she walks past the stunned crowd, she does not look back.

* * *

**A/N:** No, it's not over. 


	11. End

She does not need any help finding that place. Kira has been helpful, and so have Ikkaku and Yumichika, to an extent. The fact that Matsumoto Rangiku was adored by people other than Ichimaru Gin is common knowledge. But today Rukia only allows the white haired boy to accompany her. _Allows_ is too loose a term, though. He refuses to relinquish the ring without it, the ring that is the only thing Rangiku has left behind. Rukia understands completely why he is loath to give it up. She had not intended to force him to do it. But it seems someone else has been working on him.

They crossed into Rukongai together in the evening, both of them in civilian clothes. He is silent, as usual, and she has no interest in talking, either. When they find the house—what's left of it—they begin to look for the grave and find it more quickly than they anticipated. A simple stone with one word caved into it. "Oba-chan." She turns to him and he is already kneeling, digging in the dry earth with his bare white hands. "It doesn't need to be very deep," he murmurs.

"No," she agrees. His back and shoulders are already those of a man. Rangiku would be proud. He's even letting his hair grow. It is tied back simply with a green ribbon.

He sits back on his haunches, rubbing his forehead. "Will this—will it be okay?"

"If we mark it properly, no one should bother it," she tells him. He nods at her and holds up the box they purchased for the occasion. It is ebony and shiny, with gold characters on the lid spelling out one word: _Forever_. The engraving was Rukia's idea. Hitsugaya was violently opposed to this at first; she was forced to have Hinamori intercede on her behalf. It seems the occasion of his relenting caused Momo to buy him the gift that currently binds his snowy hair. Not that Rukia has, or ever will, tell anyone that. As it is, he opens the box and searches on his person for the ring. It is just as shiny as it was when Matsumoto wore it around her neck. He stares at it for a moment, then puts it into the box.

Rukia moves forward to help him bury them but he holds a hand up to her. He doesn't want assistance here. So she stands back, silent as he covers them.

"Did you ever hear how he gave it to her?" he asks finally.

"No," Rukia admits.

"She was half drunk when she told me," he says. "I don't know if she was lying or not. She told me that she hated him, and she wore the ring to remind herself why. He gave it to her when she was assigned to the tenth division after finishing the academy. She said he told her it was a consolation gift, that if she'd gone to the third she could have been with him. I don't understand why if she loved him so much, she didn't go into the third." His hands suddenly ball into fists. "I don't understand why she loved him at all."

"I can't tell you why, either," Rukia says. "All I really know for certain is how I feel. He was reaching for something, I think. But Rangiku-san knew what path he was on and refused to travel it with him. If she had. . .things would have been much worse for all of us."

"He would never have fixated on you if he had her."

"Perhaps. But you would never have known her, either." She tilts her head. "Could you imagine that?"

He visibly shudders.

Rukia smiles at him. "What is, is. The past cannot be changed. All the things they did to us are part of who we are now. But we have free will and we can make our own futures. Like right now, at this moment, I am doing this to honor Matsumoto-san's memory, but also to remember Ichimaru-dono's pain. It's a dark spot, but it's a part of me. And I refuse to regret who I am anymore. That's why I can hope he's at peace now."

Hitsugaya shakes his head. "Is that Unohana talking, or is it you?"

"I've been known to channel her lately, but not right now," she laughs.

As he stands, he manages a little smile himself. "Thank you," he says, and doesn't need to say why. He's already been down to the living world to see the little girl Matsumoto has become. The peace is finally spreading, just as Unohana predicted it would.

_The circle has been complete for a little over a month. She received a message from Urahara that day, scrawled on parchment. Today, April 17. Born in Nagano this afternoon into a family of four. One older sister, one brother. He is seven pounds, five ounces and nineteen inches long. The family has not named him yet, but it seems he's already got quite a smile._

Rukia decided she might visit the boy in a few years, just to check up on him. But for now, walking back to Sereitei with Hitsugaya, all she can think is she wants to go see Renji and eat with her brother, and later on go and harass Ichigo. She's free to do all these things and even to _enjoy_ doing them. Everything ends and starts again. _I'm coming_, she thinks.


End file.
